|Directional fabric…oh, how it makes my head ache!|
My sweet Mom taught me to quilt almost seven years ago. Bless her heart, I was pregnant and hyped up on hormones when she took her life into her hands and said, although rather fearfully, “okay”. Fast forward to today and it’s just hit me that the art of quilting is alot like life. There are any number of decisions to be made (pattern, fabric; cereal or takeout for dinner) and obstacles to face (points not matching; 11 year old not turning in completed homework). None of these is life-or-death or with luck, financially devastating, but still, if I don’t decide to act, the block doesn’t get made and most likely, the teacher will be calling me.
Now, I’d be the first one to tell you that I’m not the most confident of people (I like to think I hide this rather well). I’m astonished my kids have lived this long considering I can’t keep a houseplant alive, not to mention that I’m the offspring of a woman who once killed a cactus (sorry Mom). But I try…repeatedly.
That said, I’m surprised I’ve stuck with quilting this long. My pattern choice initally thrills me, fabric selection leaves me anxious and breathless for more (oops, sorry that sounds like porn). Anyway I cut, I piece, I press and BLECH! I’m lucky if it winds up becoming a quilt at all! I’m truly never satisfied. The funny thing is, regardless of whether I’m quilting or slogging through the day-to-day of married life with kids, I don’t second guess myself during the process. It’s the quiet time that follows said decision that I experience that “Aw, dayum!” moment.
Hopefully, one day soon, I can walk away from any situation and feel like at least I gave it the old college try. Until then, I’ll remain eternally grateful that the good Lord is way more forgiving than me!